


Forelsket

by Ariejul



Series: Alone in the Fallout [9]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Adult Content, Adult Language, Deacon is emotionally stunted, Deacon's PoV, F/M, Falling in Love is scary man, Feels, Oral Sex, Romantic Friendship, Spoilers, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 09:38:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11228289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariejul/pseuds/Ariejul
Summary: Forelsket: the indescribable euphoria experienced as you begin to fall in love.Charmer is sitting on his bed, and Deacon doesn't know what to do about how it makes him feel.Deacon's PoV.Takes place between Mamihlapinatapei and Verschlimmbessern.





	Forelsket

**Author's Note:**

> So, after I got finished with Numinous, I wasn't really sure where I was going to go with this series. I knew it wasn't done, but well, um, yeah. I have plenty of ideas, just not sure about the next step.
> 
> But, I kept having this plot bunny about how Deacon would react during the below events and why it happened. So, here we are.
> 
> Look guys, I'm not one to write sex scenes. I go from married thirty-something to a blushing virgin in less than a second. Even so, I WROTE IT.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Also, as with all my stories, no beta. Please give kudos/comment if you like it.
> 
> Edit: So, I'm kinda silly and forgot some dialogue. I added it in. Whoopsie.

He isn’t sure where this evening went wrong.

Deacon has very few vices. Lying could definitely be considered one. He likes to smoke more than he should. He’s also been overly fond of alcohol for longer than he cares to admit. These vices very seldom get him into trouble. Well, the lying kind of does, but that’s more fond exasperation for most parties at this point.

So, when he’d invited Charmer over for the evening to indulge is some good ole memory hazing booze because let's face it, she needs it, he had not expected this to happen. Sure, he knew she was a light weight, but he didn’t imagine just how _much_ of one. She stole his sunglasses – _why the hell did he let her? –_ and then she’d managed to break a bottle of beer all over the both of them.

She’s sitting on his bed, wobbling like a newborn Radstag, and he’s pretty sure if she keeps trying to take off her boots, she’s going to have a concussion. As much as he wants to get rid of his own beer-stained clothes, he figures he ought to help her first. Tossing his shirt in the corner, he walks over to her.

“Jeez, Charmer, you’re gonna knock yourself out acting like that.”

He likes Charmer. He likes her a lot. Probably more than he should. She’s tough as nails, funny when she wants, and puts up with his bullshit while barely batting an eye. She’s a great mom to Shaun and doesn’t even give a damn that he’s a synth. It’s honestly getting harder to remember what it was like before they partnered up. But now she’s looking up at him with those big, green eyes with an expression that he’s pretty sure those old world romance books call Bedroom Eyes.

Shit.

“You gonna undress me now?” she asks him softly, the slight slur turning it more toward a purr.

Shit shit _shit_.

He knows he shouldn’t. He should not encourage her, but damn if he isn’t enjoying the way she’s looking at him. Makes something inside him break loose, though he really doesn’t care to explore it. “Only if you want me to,” he purrs, leaning in.

He really didn’t expect her to call his bluff. “I do.”

Looking at her, imagining what it would be like to just reach out and touch… it’s too real, too much, but Deacon can’t bring himself to pull back. “Is that all you want me to do?” The words are out of his mouth before he can even stop to really think about them.

Her fingers thread through his hair, and suddenly she isn’t Charmer anymore. She’s Barbara, and shit, he’s so young, all knees and elbows and doesn’t even know what he’s doing, but she didn’t _care._ It’s magical and new and dammit all to hell.

He can’t do this. It’s sick and twisted, and she isn’t Barbara because Barbara is dead. She’s Charmer, his friend, but her eyes are screaming that he’s so much more. He takes her in, his voice hoarse when he finally meets her eyes. “Tell me what you want, Charmer.”

“Call me Jules.” Something in her gaze seems just a little broken.

No one calls her that. Her husband did, he’s sure, and that feels like a boundary he shouldn’t cross. He knows what will happen if he does. “Tell me what you want, Jules?”

“You know what I want, Deacon. You should ask yourself what it is that _you_ want.”

He shouldn’t want to. Charmer is his _friend_. She’s had a thing for him for ages, and he should not encourage that. Attachments are dangerous things, but fuck it all, he wants her more than he’s wanted anyone since Barbara. Before he knows it, he’s kissing her like he hasn’t kissed anyone in ages, maybe ever, and he definitely likes the way it feels.

"Deacon, I..." Surprise is written all over her face, and he can't bear to see that.

"Don't say anything," he murmurs, pressing another kiss to her lips and hoping it will silence her. He doesn't have any answers to give her. He doesn't want to think. He just wants to  _feel_ her and not worry about this until after.

How she responds only encourages him, and he strips away her beer splattered shirt. Her skin is pale, less marred than his own. His fingers slide across a ridge of nasty scars along her ribs, an injury he didn’t know she had. He wonders how it happened. Skimming down her stomach with feather-light touches, he unbuttons her pants and slowly slides them off.

He notes the stretch marks on her lower stomach, clear evidence of her motherhood, and he runs his lips over them with a strange sort of reverence. Charmer hisses in a breath above him, and when he glances toward her face, she’s blushing fiercely. He swallows roughly, trying to ignore the ever increasing ache between his legs as he leans up toward her face.

“Deacon,” she breathes, and he can barely suppress the urge to hear his real name from her lips. He isn’t ready for that. He might never be ready for that.

“Yeah?” he grins, peppering a line of kisses up her stomach and between her breasts. She inhales sharply when he brushes against them and with surprising strength, pulls his face up to hers.

The kiss is breathy and a little messy, but he doesn’t mind. Her fingers tangle in the waistband of his pants, fumbling with the button and zipper.

“Dammit,” she murmurs against his mouth, glancing away to see what she’s doing. He laughs, helping her remove his remaining clothing, and she just stares at him.

It makes him feel anxious, and the thought that this is the worst idea he’s had in _ages_ flickers across his thoughts. He shifts away slightly, but her hands are on him again, pulling him back toward her.

“Mmm, c’mere,” she murmurs softly, pressing another kiss against his lips.

He grins, hands sliding down and thumbing a nipple. She groans and arches up against him, and suddenly he’s acutely aware of just how hard he is. “Minx,” he whispers as his mouth follows the path of his hand.

Charmer gasps, writhing against him, and fuck, he can’t stand it. It really has been too damn long since he’s touched anyone. Or anyone’s touched him. “T-tease,” she manages, scratching down his back.

“Who? Me?” he chuckles, his lips making a slow path down her stomach.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, those big green eyes watching him with hazed desire. The expression leaves him breathless and aching. He lifts her leg, sucking kisses down the inner part of her thigh ever closer to her core. She’s shivering in his hands, and damn, the way she’s tossed her head back on the bed is making it harder to focus.

He follows the same path down her other leg, stopping close enough to breathe against her. A frisson of pleasure runs up her spine, and he presses his mouth against her as he watches her face.

Her eyes bulge at his touch, voice breathy with passion garbled words. Her toes curl against his back, and he slides his fingers into her slick heat in slow motion accompaniment to his mouth. She grips around him and growls, snapping her head up to look at him. The haze of heated passion in her eyes makes his heart stammer.

He’s taken with just how fucking beautiful she is.

“Get,” she’s mumbling, pawing at him, “get up here. I need… need you _in_ me.”

His dick pulses, and he obeys. She presses a needy kiss to his lips the second he’s in range and wraps her legs around his waist. He gulps down the sudden wash of panic that this is _happening_ right before he’s guided into her. He hisses sharply because _fuck_ that feels good, and it takes him a few seconds to process that he should be moving before he actually does.

Charmer clenches around him, rocking in time with his own movements, and Deacon feels all the thoughts come rushing out of his head at the overwhelming sensation of _her._ He’s trembling and on fire and dammit her eyes are killing him. He kisses her roughly, biting her lower lip as his pace increases.

“D-Deacon,” she moans, arching her back as his fingers slide against her clit. She clenches around him tighter, and he’s seeing stars, his release rushing out of him before he can think to stop it.

“Fuck, Jules,” he moans, fingers still working against her until she shudders, gasping in pleasure against him as she comes into her own. The sound of her voice is a heady rush of pleasure and heartsick agony.

She flops boneless against the bed, still writhing in the after-throws. She’s following him with her eyes, her expression still hungry but delightfully happy. “That was… nice,” she murmurs sleepily.

“Yeah,” he replies, picking up a towel. He helps her clean up and dress in an oversized shirt before tucking her into bed. He slips on a pair of sleep pants tiredly before turning to leave.

Charmer grabs his hand, expression frightened, like a child. “Don’t go.”

Deacon sighs before he slides into bed with her. The woman curls up against his side, and is asleep almost instantly. The smile she has plastered across her face is almost disgustingly contented.

He closes his eyes, reality crashing back into him. This was… a mistake. He should not have let himself get in this deep. Charmer is his friend, and he cares more about her than he honestly does himself. But he can’t do this. He can’t get attached to her like this. Staring up at the ceiling, he thinks about all the terrible things he’s done to her.

All the lying, the manipulation, forcing her to choose between her son and her mission with the Railroad. He never apologized for that. Doesn’t even know if he can. He doesn’t deserve Charmer, not after everything he’s done.

Rubbing his face wearily, Deacon knows without a doubt what he has to do. Glancing over at the sleeping woman beside him, he commits this undeserved moment to memory. He hopes one day someone can make her as happy as he feels right now, and knows without a shadow of a doubt, it isn’t going to be him. He pushes away the pang in his chest at the thought, and wishes with a quiet desperation that he could give her what she deserves. Before he can think better of it, he presses a kiss against her lips and stares at the ceiling until morning.


End file.
